CHAPTER IV.

CATCHING A SHARK.

Before many hours had passed Bob was to learn that the Pacific did not always live up to its name. When he awoke the following morning, shortly before seven o'clock, his first impression was that it was very hot, much hotter than when he had gone to bed the night before. For some moments he lay dozing, feeling too enervated to spring from the bed as was his custom on waking. Then came a loud rap on the door, and, at his invitation, it opened quickly and his uncle entered.

"Not up yet?" he asked.

"Not, but I will be in a jiffy," Bob replied as he swung his feet to the floor.

"What's the hurry?" came in sleepy tones from Jack's bunk on the other side of the little room.

"Looks as though we were running into a storm and you'd better get your breakfast before we strike," his uncle told them.

"Don't hear any wind," Jack said as he jumped up.

"There isn't a breath of air stirring."

"Then what makes you think it's going to blow?" Bob asked.

"That's the way they start down here. Better get a hustle on. Breakfast's all ready."

"We'll be there in two shakes of a dog's tail," Bob told him as he turned and left the cabin.

"Gee, but it's hot," Jack declared pulling on his trowsers.

"Hotter'n love in haying time," Bob agreed. "But I suppose we've got to expect that sort of thing down here. We're pretty near the equator you know."

As they emerged on deck three minutes later, a peculiar sensation struck both at the same instant. As their uncle had said, not a breath of air seemed stirring and the surface of the sea was like that of a mill pond, not so much as a ripple breaking its smoothness. The sun was half obscured by a thin haze, while, apparently rising from the ocean in the west, a low lying, dirty looking tank of clouds, caught their attention.

"Looks as though there might be some wind in them," Bob said pointing to the west.

"Wouldn't wonder," Jack agreed, just as Captain Ole came around a corner of the wheel house.

"Is it going to blow, Captain?" Bob asked.

"Yep, it's going to blow all right and mighty soon too. Had your breakfast?"

"Not yet."

"Then get it as soon as you can. This boat'll be standing on her tail before long, and no knowing how long it'll be before you get another square meal."

"He looks a bit worried," Jack said, as they hurried toward the mess cabin.

On the side of the room close to where they sat was a barometer and Bob glanced at it as they took their places at the table.

"29.75," he read the figures aloud.

"That's pretty low, isn't it?" Jack asked.

"Rather."

They hurried through the meal, but before they had finished they were aware of a peculiar moaning sound which seemed to be stealing over the surface of the water, and they noted that the glass had fallen five full points since they had sat down.

"She's sinking pretty fast," Jack declared, as he got up from his chair.

"Yep, I reckon it's going to be what they call a rip snorter," Bob said as he followed him from the room.

On deck, they found the crew making fast every moveable object under the direction of Pat Barney who greeted them with a cheery grin as he said "the top uv the mornin' to yer." Already a slight breeze was rippling the surface of the sea and the bank of clouds had spread until the entire sky was covered.

"You boys had better get below," Captain Ole shouted from the wheel house.

"You think there's danger?" Bob called back.

"Hope not, but you never can tell down here. This may be nothing but a hard blow and then again it may be a cyclone."

"We'd rather stay on deck if you don't mind," Bob told him and added: "Of course, we'll go below if it's your order."

"Oh, stay if you want to, but when she strikes she's apt to strike hard, and you want to be near something to cling to."

"We will," Bob assured him.

It was now growing rapidly darker, and the moaning sound was increasing in intensity. The air seemed to thicken perceptibly moment by moment, and it was hot and moist. Then the first gust struck. It was not quite a squall, but was strong enough to cause the Valkyrie to slide off her course several points.

"If you're going to stay on deck, you'd better get on oil skins."

Mr. Lakewood had come from the main cabin unnoticed until he spoke. He was clad in oil skins which made him look like a typical longshoreman.

"All right, we'll get them," Bob replied as he started for the cabin closely followed by Jack.

By the time they had reached the locker room, the boat was pitching rather violently and they had to watch their steps on the way back. Once more on deck they were surprised to see how rough a sea the wind had kicked up in so short a time. Huge rollers, their crests tipped with white foam, bore down on them from the north-east, and it seemed that the boat was rushing through the water at a terrific pace. Each moment the wind seemed to be increasing in strength. It came in gusts at short intervals, and each one seemed stronger than the one before. And now huge drops of rain began to pelt down, and in less than five minutes it was raining in torrents. It was now so dark that they could see hardly the length of the ship.

Mr. Lakewood was standing at the foot of the stairway leading to the bridge, and, as they made their way to his side, they could see that he was worried.

"You think it's a cyclone?" Bob shouted

"No, I don't think so, but it's going to be some blow," his uncle shouted back.

Just then a loud whirring sound rose above the noise of the wind, coming from the rear, and both boys looked at their uncle.

"That's the propeller," he told them. "The way she's pitching now it'll be out of the water about half the time. But don't you get scared," he added. "The Valkyrie is seaworthy and she'll outride the storm all right."

The ship was now pitching so violently that they were all obliged to cling fast to the railing of the stairway to keep their feet.

"If this isn't a cyclone then I'd hate to see one," Jack laughed as a huge wave sent a smother of spray over the bow.

"What makes you think it isn't one?" Bob asked his uncle.

"They don't usually come in the morning," he replied.

Soon after, Mr. Lakewood proposed that they join the captain in the wheel house.

"There's plenty of room in there and I don't reckon he'll mind, and there's no use staying out here in the rain. But you want to cling tight going up those stairs."

He led the way and the boys followed. Once Jack was all but blown off his feet but he recovered his balance and finally they were all inside.

"How does it look to you?" Mr. Lakewood asked.

"It's not so bad," Captain Ole shouted back.

Bob looked at Jack, and Jack looked at Bob. "What did he call bad?" was the question in their eyes.

"Think it'll get worse?"

"No. Glass is rising."

But it continued to blow with unabated fury, so far as the boys could see, for several hours, but finally, along toward noon, they could tell that the violence of the wind was decreasing, and a little later the sun peeped out from behind the clouds, just as a gong struck telling them that dinner was ready.

"So we aren't going to miss a meal after all," Bob laughed as they started down the stairway.

"But I'll tell you now that I was worried for a bit, and so was the captain," their uncle told them. "The beginning of that storm had all the earmarks of a rip snorter at first. I've been through them, and I know the signs, but we must have just struck the edge of it."

"And it was some edge at that," Jack laughed as he sat down at the table.

Although the boat was still pitching too violently to permit of anything of a liquid nature to be placed on the table there was plenty of solid food, and all were hungry.

When they returned to the deck, the rain had ceased and the wind had slackened to a stiff breeze, but the waves were still running high enough to cause the Valkyrie to pitch rather violently as she slid from crest to trough.

"She didn't stand on her tail though," Jack shouted to Captain Ole who was still at the wheel.

"An' you can thank your lucky stars that she didn't," he called back.

"Did we get off our course much?" Bob asked as they reached the wheel house.

"Not much we didn't," the captain replied indignantly. "I shot the sun just before you came out, and, unless I'm off my reckoning, we'll cross the line in about an hour from now."

"You mean the equator?" Jack asked.

"Sure, I mean the equator. What other line is there down here, I'd like to know?"

"Well, I reckon we're lucky that we didn't get snarled up in it," Bob laughed as Pat came in, and the captain turned the wheel over to him and announced that he was going to get something to eat.

"Snarled up in what?" Pat asked as soon the captain left the room.

"Oh, that was only some of Bob's foolishness," Jack told him. "He was trying to be funny because the captain spoke of the equator as a line."

By nightfall the sea had fallen to a gentle swell, and there was every indication of fair weather ahead.

"What's that thing following us?"

It was the following morning, shortly after ten o'clock, and the two boys, together with their uncle, were sitting beneath an awning in the stern of the boat as Bob asked the question, at the same time pointing to a triangular shaped object some hundred feet astern.

"It's a shark," his uncle told him.

"I've been watching him for some time, and that's what I thought it was. He must be a pretty good sized one."

"Yes, they get pretty large down this way and pretty ugly too."

"Well, I hate to fall overboard just now," Jack shuddered. "Do they often follow boats that way?" he asked.

"It's not unusual," his uncle told him. "Probably someone threw over something he could eat and he's hoping he'll do it again. I've known one to follow a ship for more than a day. How'd you like to catch him?"

"Could we?"

Both boys asked the question at the same time.

"If we've got a shark hook aboard we can have a try at him," Mr. Lakewood said as he arose. "You keep your eye on him and I'll go see if I can find one, Ole ought to have some."

"Talk about fishing," Bob said as his uncle left them.

"Wonder what kind of a rod you use," Jack mused.

"Rod! I reckon you don't use a rod at all."

"A body'd think you'd fished for sharks all your life," Jack declared.

"But just imagine playing that fellow on a rod. Why, he's likely all of twelve feet long."

"Some baby," Jack grinned, keeping his eye on the fish, which was now a little nearer.

Mr. Lakewood returned a few minutes later, carrying a large reel of line which was nearly as thick as a clothes line, and fastened to the end was the largest fish hook the boys had ever seen.

"Thought he must have one," he smiled as he put the reel down on the deck. "Now, Jack, you go ask Wong for a big hunk of salt pork, while Bob and I are getting this reel anchored so that we can handle our friend out there provided we hook on to him."

The reel was a strongly built affair and was provided with a handle, which was long and looked firm enough to stand any reasonable strain which might be put on it.

"How you going to hold it?" Bob asked as Jack disappeared.

"It's fixed so that it can be attached to this snubbing post this way," and Mr. Lakewood proceeded to make it firm with the aid of a bit of chain which he had brought with him.

Everything was ready by the time Jack returned with a hunk of pork, which must have weighed all of five pounds.

"This big enough?" he asked.

"I reckon it'll do." Taking the meat, Mr. Lakewood stuck the hook, which was fully a foot in length, through the middle of it.

"Now, Jack, suppose you go and ask whoever's at the wheel to slow down to about half speed. We're going so fast that I'm afraid the bait'll just skip along the surface and, you know, a shark has to turn over pretty well onto his back when he bites."

Jack found Pat on the wheel, and, on being told what was up, the Irishman at once rang for half speed, and almost immediately the boat again began to slow down. Jack hurried back to find his uncle slowly paying out the line.

"Had a bite?" he chuckled.

"Not yet," Bob replied.

There was a sinker on the line, but in spite of it the hunk of meat at first skipped over the surface of the water but, as the speed of the boat lessened, it soon disappeared.

"How much line have we got?" Bob asked.

"Ole said there was about a hundred feet," his uncle told him.

"Then we must have out about fifty feet now," Jack said.

"Just about."

"I don't see his fin," Bob said a moment later.

"Maybe he's," Jack began, but before he could finish what he was going to say, there was a violent tug on the line and at the same instant there was a tremendous commotion in the water some seventy-five feet astern.

"We've hooked him," Bob shouted.

The line was now running out rapidly, and, almost before he had finished speaking, the last layer left the reel, and, for a moment the line straightened out as taut as a bowstring.

"Shall I try to reel in?" Jack shouted excitedly.

"Go ahead," his uncle consented. "After that jerk, I reckon the line will hold him."

To his great surprise, the line came in easily and he had recovered fully thirty feet when there was a sudden reversal of program on the part of the big fish, and the handle of the reel was jerked out of his hand with a suddenness which made him gasp. Again the reel ran bare, and again the line straightened out.

"Better let him tire himself out," Mr. Lakewood suggested with a smile. "I reckon that line's going to hold him."

"Gee, but did you see that," Jack gasped.

The shark had leaped clear of the water, and there was a loud splash as it fell back.

"I think we've got a whale instead of a shark," Bob declared.

"I've seen 'em bigger nor that feller."

They turned to find the second mate, Josh Kelley, standing close by the rail.

"How long do you reckon that fellow is?" Mr. Lakewood asked him.

"Not more'n eighteen feet," Josh replied.

"Isn't that pretty good sized?" Bob asked, as the fish again broke water.

"'Bout half grown."

"I'd add seven or eight feet to your estimate," Mr. Lakewood told him.

"Bet he isn't twenty."

"I never bet," Mr. Lakewood smiled. "But I'll be surprised if he doesn't run over twenty-five."

"What kind of a shark is it?" Bob asked.

"White shark, I should say," Josh told him.

"Are they the ugly kind?" Jack asked.

"They are that. They're man eaters. Isn't that so, Josh?" Mr. Lakewood asked, turning to the mate.

"Wal, if they're full grown they're kinder unpleasant, so ter speak," the Yankee, with a slight sneer in his voice, acknowledged.

"Suppose you try to wind him in again, Jack," Mr. Lakewood suggested. "I'll go get my rifle. We want to be sure he's dead before he comes aboard. But look out he doesn't yank that handle out of your hand and break a wrist."

Jack began to turn the handle of the reel but the line came in with difficulty and he had about all he could do to regain any of it. Once again the fish made a sudden dash and the reel whirred as the line ran out. The boy let it run till the reel was again bare and then began to wind in again. By this time several of the crew were gathered in the stern watching the fight, among them Captain Ole.

"You got quite a minnie," he smiled as the fish again leaped clear of the water.

"I'll say he is," Jack puffed, turning the handle with all his strength.

"And it's a white, sure as guns," Captain Ole told him. "I don't as a rule like to see a thing killed just for the sake of killing, but when it comes to a white shark, the more of them you kill the better, I say. They're killers of the worst sort. One of them almost got me once, and I've had a grudge against them ever since. I'll tell you the story sometime."

Jack had been reeling in rapidly while the captain was talking, and now had nearly half the line in again. He could tell that the big fish was tiring rapidly, but it was not dead yet, and another rush again took out thirty or forty feet. But this was the last battle, and Jack had the fish up to within twenty feet of the boat when Mr. Lakewood reappeared with a rifle in his hands.

"You a good shot, Bob?" he asked.

"Nothing extra," Bob grinned.

"Well, have a try," Mr. Lakewood said, handing him the gun.

"Where's the best place to hit?" Bob asked as he took the rifle from his uncle's hand.

"When he turns, get him just above his mouth," Captain Ole advised.

The fish was now making but feeble struggles to escape and was turning, every minute or two so as to expose its huge mouth, and Bob could not repress a shudder as he caught sight of the rows of needle sharp teeth. Awaiting a favorable moment he fired and the big fish, with a last effort, threw itself from the water, and then fell back.

"You got him all right," Captain Ole assured him.

"But what'll we do with him?" Bob asked.

"Well, the only part of him that's really worth anything is the oil in his head," the captain replied slowly. Then, turning to the sailors, he said. "You boys want to pull him up and get the oil? You can have it if you do and maybe you'll get fifty dollars worth, maybe more."

"You bet," was the immediate and unanimous response.

"All right, then. You'll have to rig a tackle up forward where the mess can be cleaned up easily."

The tackle was soon arranged, and the captain ordered the boat stopped long enough to allow the men to pull the huge fish from the water.

"He sure is some minnie, as Cap't Ole said," Bob grinned as the shark came over the side and, a moment later was stretched out on the forward deck.

"Twenty-six feet and three inches," Captain Ole announced a few minutes after he had measured the fish. "You'd have lost that bet, Josh," he added turning to the second mate who was watching him closely.

"He's bigger nor I thought," he acknowledged.

"I'll bet that fellow hates his own shadow," Jack whispered to Bob as they leaned against the rail watching the sailors as they cut a hole in the shark's head, the exact spot being indicated by Captain Ole.

"He sure does nurse a mean grouch," Bob agreed.

About two quarts of a clear light yellow oil was dipped from the cavity in the shark's head and then the carcass was thrown overboard.

"What's that oil good for?" Jack asked Captain Ole.

"They use it to oil watches and fine clocks," the captain told him. "You see it's an oil that won't gum."